


Dear Sherlock

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6439972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being put with Sherlock Holmes for a pen pal assignment John starts to question why he was ever paired up with such a prick- that is until he realizes that he's falling in love with him.</p><p>**TRIGGER WARNING**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Acquaintances

**Author's Note:**

> *You can give me some ideas in the comments if you want!!!*

**[John's POV]**

"Sherlock Holmes," John squinted as he read the name on the paper. He sat down at the old wooden desk he's had forever and got out a clean sheet of paper. _How to start, how to start..._

 _Dear Sherlock Holmes_ ,

John rolled his eyes. Such a simple start for a complicated letter; and it was complicated. What was he even supposed to say?

_My name is John Ham-_

No. That was a way to scare away a stranger wasn't it?

_My name is John Watson._

Better.

_You may not know me, but I believe I was paired up with you for this assignment by my teacher. I guess it's supposed to be like some strangers become friends kind of thing . I don't know. I like your name by the way- your parents must be very unique..._

Why couldn't he think of anything to write?

John slumped over in his chair and crumpled up his paper. He tossed it into the bin and crossed his arms. Maybe he should try again tomorrow?

_Yeah I'm defiantly going to fail this assignment._

*****

John opened his eyes hearing his mother knock on the door.

"John, a letter has come for you in the mail."

He yawned and sat up. He took the letter with the words neatly written on the paper.

_Sherlock Holmes_

John furrowed his eyebrows together and ripped open the note no matter how neat it was.

_Dear John Watson,_

_Before we start I want to conclude that it was not my choice to write this. Choosing your name for the assignment was accidental and I tried to put it back to get a better one, but the idiotic teacher would not let me saying I had to be happy with what I chose. (And to be clear, I am not happy). If you believe we are going to be friends, you might as well toss that in the trash along with this brilliant idea of work. I don't have friends; alone is what I have. Alone protects me. We will be nothing more than mere acquaintances that talk on a daily basis,_

_Your acquaintance,_

_Sherlock Holmes_

John's eyes narrowed as he flipped it over since there was small writing on the back.

_P.S. What does the H in your name stand for?_

John sat there for a moment in his pajamas going over what he had just read in his brain. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or be completely insulted. He got out his paper and his pen propping himself up on the bed. He tossed Sherlock's note on his desk and began to write out the words.

_Dear Sherlock Holmes,_

_I don't exactly know what to say. In my opinion, it seems like you just want to be left alone to yourself. Since I know we both don't want to fail this class, I am willing to put up with your improper behavior. And Sherlock? Sounds like the name of a prick._

_John admired his work fondly. He had sure got him now. He leaned over and signed his name in a neat manner as he always did. John H. Watson._

_P.S. There is no way in Hell i will tell you what my middle name is._

**[Sherlock's POV]**

As Sherlock finished writing out his last sentence and he sealed it with his favorite stamp. He stood up and got dressed for the school day; oh couldn't he wait to correct the teachers of their idiocy. He smoothed out his coat and grabbed his bag not even daring to wave goodbye to Mycroft or his parents.

They'd slow him down anyway.

On his way there he dropped the letter to...to whoever his pen pal was- he had already erased the name from his mind palace. Useless information.

"Good afternoon, Anderson," he said, "Did you leave your brain at home again?" He asked as the dimwitted male searched through his bag. Anderson decided it would be best to just ignore Sherlock's remarks.

"Leave 'em alone, Freak. It's only been five seconds and you're already busy using your big head," Donovan defended Anderson for some odd reason. A smirk tugged on the dark-haired's lips as he figured it out. This had to be a new record.

"Nice cologne, Anderson. Does it concern you that Donovan's wearing the same thing?" He mocked before walking off.

"He really is a freak, isn't he?" he heard from behind him.

If only they knew how much words hurt. Sherlock deleted those feelings from his mind. Better to not deal with them at all.

*****

Sherlock sat under the tree with branches too short looking around the school lot. He usually ate alone outside because no one appreciated how brilliant he was- except himself.

He ate his sandwich thinking about how John was going to respond. If he was like his last pen pal he would try some witty remark. That's what everyone with a small brain did.

Sherlock looked around again. Every so often he would have a group of jocks beat him up- most likely sent by Anderson. And if Sherlock was correct (which he usually was), it was on days he pissed him off. Today was one of those days.

First he heart the bang of jocks shoes against the ground and that's all he needed. He bolted from the area and luckily Sherlock was a very good runner.

But not that good at hiding.

The jocks cornered him in the locker rooms.

"So how much did Anderson pay you this time? Or did he bribe you with sex with Donovan?" he kept his head held high.

That is until one of them knocked him right in the jawline

Sherlock blocked out what had happened- but it basically ended up with him being beaten to a bloody pulp and laying on the locker room floor.

But that was high school, _right?_


	2. Good to Forget- But Not Very Forgiving

**[Sherlock's POV]**

Sherlock opened the door in front of his house and went straight to his room. He didn't want Mycroft to become concerned about him since he was covered in bruises.

When he entered he saw an envelope laid on his desk. Probably from that John person. He opened it neatly making sure not to tear it up too much.

_Dear Sherlock Holmes,_

_I don't exactly know what to say. In my opinion, it seems like you just want to be left alone to yourself. Since I know we both don't want to fail this class, I am willing to put up with your improper behavior. And Sherlock? Sounds like the name of a prick. John H. Watson_

_P.S. There is no way in Hell i will tell you what my middle name is._

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the typical response from the typical idiot. John H. Watson was just like his last pen pal in every way and would most likely stop talking to him after this first week.

Oh, so typical.

Sherlock went on his brothers computer and opened a secret document. Mike liked to research every single person in every school so he knew what brain levels he was competing with- he might as well work for the government. He had to have John somewhere in this.

John Hamish Watson.

He smiled at the satisfactory of seeing that name pop up on the screen. He got out his pen and a clean sheet of paper.

_Dear John Hamish Watson,_

He smiled to himself.

_I'd love to say that you have a brilliant impression of an idiot. Probably why you don't know what to say. We're supposed to tell about how our day is going right? Well I spent half of it being punched and shoved into a locker. Everyone was rambling about the police case on the telly today, too; I don't get how people don't know that the maid murdered his wife,_

_Sherlock Holmes._

Sherlock finished and placed the note in an envelope. The last thing he wanted was pity from some low life, but he knew that was the response he was going to get. He went out to the letterbox dropping the envelope in.

Now to wait from a response from John H. Watson.

**[John's POV]**

John smiled as walked back into his house seeing Harriet doing her homework at the table.

Good afternoon, Harry," He said putting his book-bag down on the table.

"John!" She smiled invitingly, "A letter came for you a couple minutes ago, is it for the pen pal thing you had to do at school. I had to do it. Got this girl named Clara and we're best friends. You've met her right? Isn't she amazing?" Harry rambled on about her day and John listened as he opened the note.

His jaw dropped as he read it over, "He found out my middle name?!" he hollered out and Harry glanced upstairs.

"Quiet, John...dad is trying to sleep," She looked down and turned away.

John glanced upstairs and sighed. His father had probably went out drinking again.

He wandered into his room and laid down on his bed reading over the rest of Sherlock's note. A small smile spread on his face as he turned on the television.

_The maid murdered his wife..._

His eyes flickered to the telly seeing a woman getting arrested with the headline, _Maid Murders Wife For Money._

He scratches at his head in confusion. How could this eighteen year old boy figure that out before the police?

John dropped the note to his side when he heard the sounds of yelling coming from upstairs. Now he knew his dad was awake so he locked his door. He didn't want to deal with him again today.

"-And Harriet if I ever see you bring another _friend_ over you'll never see the light of day again you hear me?!?" He yelled at Harry like usual.

John didn't understand why. All she did was bring a girl over. Her best friend Clara right, no harm in that. Of course everyone in the house could hear when Clara whispered three words to Harry.

_I fancy you._

In his father's words it was basically just a proper I love you.

John put a pillow over his head before hearing the note fall off his bed- his assignment. He huffed grabbing a piece of random paper and a blue pen.

_Dear Sherlock Holmes, I think me and you got off on the wrong foot. I believe in giving people a second chance and you don't seem that bad. Harry always tells me that first impressions are what start you off but I'm starting to believe that's not true. How did you know the maid murdered that woman? It's not like your some genius. I can tell from your letters,_

_John H. Watson_

_P.S. Do you think I fancy you means I love you._

There. Short, simple, to the point, no commitment. It's not like this was a lifetime deal. It was just work John had to get done with.

John laid back on his bed and closed his eyes- best to sleep the pain away.

**[Sherlock's POV]**

Drugs, lots of them- great to forget, but not very forgiving.

"Sherlock," Mycroft walked in seeing his brother laying on the ground knocked out. He sighed softly picking him up and putting him on the bed, "Oh Sherlock, when will you learn?" He whispered putting the heroine in his little brother's secret compartment.

He looked at the note Sherlock got from John and then at the one he writing for said boy.

_Dear John, I am a genius even though many people don't agree with me. Police are idiots who tell you everything is going to be fine when it's not. I'm lonely, John. I have no one here that understands me. They all tell me to piss off whenever I try. Why am I trying, John. I_

Sherlock had probably passed out from drug overdose. Mycroft squinted seeing erased marks on the paper but he heard his brother move and he put it down. He quickly exited the room.

Sherlock opened his eyes looking around and rubbing his red eyes. He searched for the heroine stuffed neatly in it's place, then returned to the note on his desk. He was defiantly not sending this one to John.

He crushed the paper in his hands and discarded it in the trash. He only needed one thing in his life; that was it.

Drugs, lots of them- great to forget, _but not very forgiving._


	3. Do You Fancy Tea?

**[John's POV]**

"John you can't be serious, do you actually consider meeting this Sherlock boy?" Mary asked as they took a seat at the lunch table, "It was just supposed to be some stupid assignment for class."

"Yeah, but Mary I'm actually interested in him."

"After only a few letters?"

"It seems like he needs a friend. Everyone deserves a friend right?" John shrugged swirling his fork in the barely mashed potatoes. He leaned his chin on his hand looking over at the blonde who laughed a bit.

"I'm sorry, John but YOU actually want to meet someone. _Fuck the world_ John Watson?" She giggled lightly nudging him.

John smiled knowing she wasn't trying to be insulting, "What 'bout you? Who'd you get paired with?" He hummed taking a bite of the cold chicken nugget.

"Some random shy girl, no one I could actually make conversation with."

John nodded understanding, "I still haven't gotten a response from him yet. He's probably grown bored with me," he sighed at that thought.

"Aw don't look so pitiful. He'll probably send one soon, hm?" She smiled and ate her own lunch.

"Yeah..." John sighed and Mary ruffled his hair.

"Here have my mashed potatoes." She smiled.

"Sounds...appetizing."

**[Sherlock's POV]**

_Dear John Hamish Watson,_  

Sherlock carefully wrote out the words.

I _would like to apologize for not writing for today...I was in the hospital for drug overdose nothing important. Mycroft, my brother, says I have to stop but he's an idiot so I'm not going to listen to him. I don't want to listen to him. Do you like coffee or tea? I do. Let's have tea John Watson._

Tears flowed down his face as he tried to keep his emotions in and he wiped it with his bloody cut up arm.

_Let's have tea._

Sherlock heard his older brother come home and he quickly retreated to the bathroom. He wiped the mirror with his hand hating what was staring back at him.

A thin, pale, teen who's seen too much and knows too much. Who would give anything not to be a freak.

Sherlock turned on the water to the bathtub and undressed his much too thin body. Sometimes he forgot to eat when he was too wrapped up in a case. Nothing unusual.

He got in slowly as the water burned his fresh wounds and he winced.

This was the worst part- but he deserved the pain. Sherlock watched as the water turned a pale red and he breathed softly.

Wouldn't it be great if he could just disappear?

Once he got out he wrapped his cuts with some bandages and got into a robe. He sat down at his desk and grasped his black pen.

_Do you fancy some tea, John Watson?_ He wrote his name at the bottom of the letter and hopped up going to put it in the letterbox. He rushed back home and stole Mycroft's computer. What else was there to John?

**[John's POV]**

John sat on his bed in the middle of the night as he heard his parents fight over the normal things. Money, bills, Harriet, John. But it was all the same if he thought about it too hard.

John stared at the note from Sherlock as he read the words. He suddenly jumped at the sound of a rock gently hitting the window.

He slowly got up, his feet cold against the hardwood floor because he had neglected to put anything warm down for his toes. He peered out the window that was big enough to fit a human through.

John should know he had went through there many times to sneak out.

He saw a man with dark curly hair and multi-colored eyes holding a paper. He gave a small smile when he saw what was printed.

_Do you have some tea?_

He shook his head opening the window, "Are you Sherlock Holmes?" He asked tilting his head and leaning against the window. He yawned softly.

Sherlock nodded, "In the flesh. John, I didn't expect you to be a blonde." He smiled a little, "Should've researched more."

John smiled and opened his window, "Come in here, but be quiet," He whispered.

**[Sherlock's POV]**

At first glance Sherlock saw everything. John's pain. It hurt him internally and he didn't know why. He barely knew who he was.

Turns out he wasn't the only one who had trouble.

"Family being a bother?" He said as he climbed in and hoisted himself up and over. He sat down inspecting every inch of John. His eyes, hair, lips- must have gotten a new toothbrush. His eyes told more stories than Sherlock could tell himself. His hair was a mess probably from tossing and turning most of the night.

Sherlock took note of how exhausted he looked too.

John nodded, "I would go make tea but-" He heard his dad and mum faintly yelling, "Wouldn't want to wake Harry."

Sherlock watched as he sat down and he sat down next to him.

"How'd you find me. Kind of stalkerish if you ask me." John chuckled laying back.

"My brother keeps files on a computer and your address was one of them. Nice flat by the way." He laid down next to him.

He only lived three minutes away from John; the only difference was Sherlock went to private school.

John nodded shutting his heavy eyelids, "I read your note..." He mumbled.

Sherlock stared forward, "You can ignore the writing on that it's stupid. In fact you can just throw it out. It's nothing you have to worry about..it's just....it's-" He stopped talking when he heard John snoring and he smiled to himself.

He pulled the blankets up and pecked a kiss on John's forehead. "Goodnight, John," He whispered as he watched John in blissful slumber.

_What a beautiful sight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it was a bit rushed I'm exhausted.


End file.
